


Medieval Mix-Up Masquerade, or You Want Me To Wear What?!

by SnowWhiteKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Fluff, Jaime had it coming, Jaime is his handmaiden, Mild Language, Miscommunication, Plot, Sandor is a princess, Ser Brienne, Ser Sansa, Silly, Sugar high without the sugar, what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5294312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowWhiteKnight/pseuds/SnowWhiteKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: #MoosePrompt Instead of an ordinary trick-or-treater at my door, ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why are you dressed like knights?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm a glutton for punishment. This will be a short fic. No set schedule for updates.

Instead of an ordinary trick-or-treater at his door, he found an incredibly tall knight. An incredibly tall _blue_ knight. Standing next to the blue knight was a red knight, with a coy looking wolf helm. 

"Hate to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure the Homeowners Association put an age limit on trick-r-treaters. And Halloween was more than a month ago."

The red knight lifted their helm to reveal Sansa Stark. "Jaime! Don't tell me you forgot! Where is your costume?"

"Sansa, so Blue here must be..." Jaime reached up and attempted to flip up the helm, but it refused to budge. 

"Please tell me you have some WD-40," he heard Brienne's voice from beneath the slotted metal. "It is stifling in here. Or if you could help me remove it. That would be good, too."

"Sandor!" Jaime yelled. 

"What?!" came the angry reply. 

"Got any--" he looked to Brienne. 

"WD-40," she said. 

"WD-40?!" Jaime yelled. There was silence and then angry stomping as a tall, muscular man with long black hair walked past them and continued into the next room. 

"I've told you a thousand times!" Sandor shouted. They could hear cabinet doors slamming and the heavy footsteps getting louder as he returned. "Anything you need to fix anything is under the sink in the kitchen! Did you even try to--" He stopped short when he saw the visitors. Jaime could swear that the burnt side of his face twitched into a smile, but it was hard to tell sometimes. 

"L-Little bird," he stuttered. "What are you doing here?"

Jaime shook his head. It was a badly kept secret that his grumpy roommate was hot for his girlfriend's best friend. "Really? The girls show up dressed as knights and all you can say is 'what are you doing here?' Losing your touch, my friend." Sandor growled, but brought forth the requested miracle spray. "OK, so do I just spray it on the helmet or...?" Jaime asked, staring at the little can. 

"For fuck's sake, you can't spray it on while she's wearing the damn thing. Tarth, take that thing off and I'll fix it. Wonder Boy here is going to end up blinding you one of these days." 

"I need help taking the helmet off, it's stuck on the clasp as well. Sansa tried, but her fingers aren't strong enough," Brienne said miserably. 

"Why the hell are you wearing these getups anyway," Jaime muttered, shooing Sandor away. If anyone was going to help Brienne remove clothing, it would be him, even if it was metal clothing. 

"Jaime, do you seriously have no idea?" Sansa asked with a frown. He shook his head. "Tonight is Tyrion's Medieval Mix-Up Masquerade. You told me you were going."

Jaime made a face as he struggled with the clasp of the helmet. It sounded familiar. "Are you sure?"

Sansa gave an exasperated sigh, "Yes! I'm sure! You said..." she glanced over at Sandor, "you said you and Sandor were excited to be our dates to this."

"Dates?" Sandor squeaked in a very un-Sandor-like manner. Jaime sighed, gave a final tug to Brienne's helmet and stepped back a bit as the helm gave a slight pop on release. This was starting to sound more familiar. He tossed the helmet to Sandor.

"You completely forgot, didn't you?" Brienne said, though she looked more amused than anything else. Her hair was standing on end, giving her that 'just got properly tumbled' look he loved to see on her.

"There's my girl," Jaime said happily, giving her a kiss. "And yes, I may have forgotten," he admitted. "Just a tiny bit."

Sansa looked like she wanted to murder him, which he didn't blame her. The conversation they had had a few days ago about the party was starting to come back to him. Sandor's crush on Sansa was evident to everyone BUT Sansa and Sansa's crush on Sandor had been a shocker, to say the least. She wanted to use the party as an excuse to ask Sandor out, but had foolishly relied on Jaime to relay the invite. 

"Sansa," Brienne whispered gently, "you knew this was a possibility. Why don't you go talk to Sandor about the party and leave Jaime to me?"

The girl nodded, threw a withering glare at Jaime, and clanked noisily as she walked over to the grumpy scaredy cat who was now sitting on the couch, fiddling with the blue helmet and the WD-40. 

Brienne raised an eyebrow at him. "Really, Jaime? She was looking forward to this for weeks, finally got the nerve to talk to you about inviting Sandor, and you go and forget?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "It's not like I meant to. I was going to tell him when I got home that day, but he started yelling at me about not doing the dishes, and I decided to wait until he calmed down, and then I forgot..."

"Well, lucky for you, I thought you might do something like this and we came prepared. Frankly, it's better if Sansa just asks him herself, so he's less likely to think it's one of your pranks."

"I thought you loved my jokes?" he asked with an exaggerated pout.

She rolled her eyes. "Love is an awfully strong word for your _pranks_. Anyway, back to the party, we brought extra costumes for you two. You play nice while I go get them."

She walked back out to the car. Jaime turned to watch the two on the couch. Sandor was wary, but hopeful as Sansa spoke to him. He nodded, which made Sansa grin brightly and hug the large man. She turned to Jaime, her hands never leaving Sandor. "Sandor's my date for the evening, so suck it, Lannister!" she said happily. Jaime could only laugh at that.

"Still not sure about this costume though, little bird," the man rasped.

"Don't worry, everyone will be dressed similarly. At least it covers more than Jaime's does," she reassured him.

Jaime frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Sansa looked straight at him, a malicious glint in her eye. "Brienne let me pick out the costumes. After she told me you might forget and not have _any_ costume ready."

Jaime felt a drop of sweat run down his temple to his cheek. "Um, what exactly is the theme of this party again?"

"Medieval _Mix-Up_  Masquerade," Sansa said with a smirk. "In other words, everyone will be dressed as the _opposite_ gender. Sandor will be princess to mine and Brienne's knights.  _You,_ on the other hand, will be the scantily clad handmaiden to my 'lady'."

"Sansa, I am so sorry I forgot. Can you please--"

"Nope! You two are different sizes, so you can't switch. I made these costumes especially for both of you. So you will wear it and you will behave like a proper handmaiden,  _Jaime."_

Brienne returned with two garment bags, each carefully labeled in Sansa's neat penmanship. She handed one to each man. "I assume you will be joining us, Sandor?"

He glanced quickly at Sansa, "Wouldn't dream of missing it," he mumbled, taking the bag and dragging Jaime to the next room. 

"You'll need to help each other with them," Sansa called after them.

"What the hell, man?!" Sandor hissed at him when they were safely out of earshot from the women. "You know I've been wanting to ask Sansa out and you  _forget_ to tell me she wants to invite me to a party?!"

"Would you have believed me if i had remembered?" Jaime asked. Sandor glared at him and Jaime winced. "OK, that was my bad, I was a terrible friend. But it all worked out! You have to dress as a princess, but you got your date."

"I would wear a cardboard box as pants if Sansa asked me to! I am secure enough in my masculinity to wear a dress. Are you?" Sandor asked with a sneer. He unzipped the garment bag. "Oh, wow." 

Jaime snuck a peek. The dress was beautiful, proving Sansa was a talented seamstress. Soft black fabric, trimmed in a dull yellow, and the simple style was well matched to Sandor's personality. He shucked off his shirt and pants and pulled the dress on over his head. Jaime helped him zip up. It surprised both of them that the cut of the dress was actually flattering on him. 

Jaime looked at his own costume cautiously. Removing his own shirt and pants, he carefully put the handmaiden outfit on. The gauzy fabric felt nice against his skin, though he would need a jacket since it would offer little protection against the cold autumn air. Sandor helped him tie the dress off in the back.

The two men returned to the front living room. "Oh my," Brienne said appreciatively. "You two look better than I thought you would."

"I feel pretty," Jaime said with a grin, twirling so the skirt flared out a little. "I'm surprised you didn't make my costume frumpier, Sansa."

She scowled at him, "I won't say it wasn't tempting, but my artistic integrity won out."

"Well, we'll both be a hit, I'm sure," Jaime said confidently.

Sandor ducked his head down, but Sansa approached him and lifted his head by pressing two fingers underneath his chin. "A princess looks down with her eyes, not her head." She guided him to the couch. "Sit, I'll fix your hair into a proper princess style. Northern will suit you better, I think. Brienne?"

She nodded in agreement and looked over at Jaime. "Your hair is too short for anything I could manage, but I'll at least brush it out."

Jaime sat in the low back chair as Brienne went to find a brush. She soon returned and was brushing Jaime's golden locks to a silky shine. He practically purred his contentment, her gentle touch was effectively relaxing him so well. He made a mental note to return the favor later.

"Alright, 'ladies' and 'ser', ready to party at Tyrion's place?" Brienne asked.

Sansa gave a whoop of joy and offered her arm to Sandor with a brilliant grin. He accepted it with a timidity that surprised Jaime, but then again, the man had been hopelessly in love with Sansa and was probably wondering if this was all a dream. It certainly felt surreal to Jaime, and he had been happily dating Brienne for the past year and a half, and were due to be married soon.

"Let's get this over with. I can't wait to see what Tyrion's wearing," Jaime said, a dopey smile on his face.


	2. Pinch Me, I'm Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok...my attempt at drawing the [costumes](http://drgns8er.tumblr.com/image/134615682104):  
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> I didn't draw Brienne, since we all know what she looks like in armor. I might change that later on though.

In what felt like no time at all, they arrived at Casterly Rock Manor. Sansa handed over the matching masks to Jaime and Sandor before they exited the car. She looked up at him shyly, "I wasn't sure how much of your scars you would feel like displaying. I made it to cover the top half of your face since it goes well with that dress design, but I brought extra supplies if you want more covered."

"What about me?" his roommate whined. "I only get a domino mask!"

Sansa rolled her eyes, " _You_ had plenty of warning about this party. If you don't like your costume, then go naked for all I care."

"Sansa! Don't give him ideas!" the blonde wench hissed.

Jaime jumped out of the back seat and slammed the door, yelling out, "I'm gonna be naked!"

"You will owe me fifty gold dragons for the costume creation, however, since I did go to the trouble of making it especially for you. And my time ain't cheap, Lannister!" Sansa shouted out Brienne's open door. She leaned closer to him and whispered, "Only cost two silvers to make it, though I would normally only charge ten gold for that."

"Little bird, I do believe I'm a bad influence on you," Sandor whispered back. She grinned and winked at him. He had confessed to her last week to overcharging Jaime on his half of the utilities. His defense was that he considered it a handling and tolerance fee, since Jaime was perfectly capable of paying it himself, he was just too lazy and let Sandor do it for him. 

"So would you like the mask as is or with extra coverage?" she asked softly. He had forgotten about that, and stepped out of the car with Sansa following quickly.

Shrugging, he said, "This will be fine. I don't care if I'm recognized or not."

"Well, as long as you're comfortable. Here, turn around and I'll fasten it for you." He turned and was about to kneel down when the mask came down. He had momentarily forgotten that Sansa was tall enough to not need any help. He held it in place as she tied the ribbon behind his head. Brienne and Sansa put their helmets back in place before they allowed the valet to take the car.

They walked in pairs to the front door. An older man answered the door in a maid outfit. Any doubts Sandor held about the party were driven away at the sight of that man in what looked like poorly adjusted garters. "Good evening, please come in from the cold. Mistress Tyrion is in the bar area, Master Shae is in the ballroom. I will take your cloaks and you may proceed to the party. There is a lovely banquet in the main dining hall, to your left, bar is on the far right, with the ballroom right across from there. Any questions?" the old man asked. 

"My lady Sandor would like to use the refreshing room. Would you be so kind as to direct us to it?" Jaime said in a saccharine sweet tone. Sandor glared at his roommate. He didn't even need to take a piss!

"Oh, of course. It is right here, to your right." Sandor ignored Jaime's gestures as the old man took their coats and handed them back a ticket. 

"My lady! Please, let me attend you," Jaime began, but as the old man shuffled off, he switched tones, "dude, c'mon, women go to the bathroom together!"

"Yeah, no, Lady Sandor is sticking by my side," Sansa said, wrapping his arm around hers. He decided he liked it that she was taking charge. "We'll be in the ballroom for a bit."

Sandor let her lead him away from the protests Jaime was sputtering. The ballroom was decorated like a time machine had thrown up Ancient Westeros. He had never met Tyrion's wife, but he knew she and Sansa were good friends.

Sansa led him into the dance floor. "Shae looks busy, so let's dance first," she said. There were a few other couples dancing. Well, swaying, if he was truthful. It didn't look too hard and Sansa seemed to have an idea of what to do. He enjoyed the feel of her next to him as she guided him around the dance floor. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you about the party sooner," she confided. "I wanted to, but I was so nervous."

"What could possibly make the little bird nervous?" he teased. 

"I... I just..." she pushed her visor up, her blue eyes looking deeply into his grey ones.

"Sansa!" a voice called out. The both turned to see who it was.

The short woman who greeted them was too cheerful, her manners were too forced. She was dressed as a high lord, red and gold velvet with a matching cloak.

"Ser Sansa! How good of you to come. And this is?" she looked over at him. 

"Lord Shae, allow me to introduce Princess Sandor. My _date_ for the evening," Sansa said, with a hint of pride, though he surely was dreaming _that_. Shae's eyes went wide. Sandor braced himself for the disbelief that someone as pretty as Sansa was here with someone as ugly as him. 

"This is the famous Sandor!?" Shae squealed. Sandor had not expected that. 

"Famous?" he asked. 

He felt Sansa stiffen next to him, and then mumbled, "I may have mentioned you once or twice." She flipped the visor back down. He couldn't be sure, but he would bet money that she was turning as red as her armor underneath that helmet. 

"Once or twice?" Shae scoffed. "Try 'talked poor Shae's ear off on multiple occasions'. It would be closer to the truth."

"Shae!"

"Allow me a dance, Princess, and I will tell you all about it." Shae offered her his hand. How could he refuse?

He accepted her hand and was whisked away from Sansa. As he was twirled around by "Lord Shae" he would catch glimpses of Sansa. He saw her walk off the dance floor.

"I thought there was a bar across the hallway?" he asked Shae, watching Sansa walk up to the bar on the far wall of the ballroom.

"There is. This one is just for getting drinks, the one across the hall has seats where little drunkards can have their fill," she said bitterly. He raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't ask. She took a deep breath and changed the subject and her tone, "So, you and Sansa?"

"She just asked me to go to this a little less than an hour ago," Sandor replied. He could see Sansa ordering a drink. "She asked Jaime to ask me, but he forgot and I had no idea before that."

"Lannister men are quite forgetful, no? Well, I'm glad you said yes. She talks about you. Speaks highly of you. Even dresses you better than she dresses herself," Shae noted, looking over Sandor's outfit. He gave her a questioning look. "Your outfit is clearly her work. Very high quality. Her outfit...a mere rental. She likes you. A lot. Don't hurt her, or I will hurt you."

Sandor frowned, but nodded. "I would never hurt her." He could see Sansa ordering another drink as a girl in a green and gold lord's costume sauntered up to her. Sansa did not look pleased.

"Good. Brienne and I will keep an eye on you anyway." Shae separated from him and bowed low. He did his best to curtsy. "Just remember, I know places where bodies will not be found." She turned to look for Sansa. "Well, shit. Tyrells are here."

"Tyrells?"

"The Tyrell trio, Willas, Loras, and Margaery. Willas is quite taken with Sansa, Loras and Margaery adore her and want her to be their sister-in-law, and often try to match-make the two. I've told Margaery that Sansa's not interested, hell, _Sansa_ has told her, but she won't listen. Loras has finally taken the hint, but does nothing about Margaery. The thing about it is, they are normally good friends, but this whole thing with Willas is pushing Sansa to not want to be around her as much. She can't see that she's ruining her own friendship. She means well, but...she's stubborn." Shae sighed. "Just one more thing to worry about."

"Would any of these Tyrells try something?" Sandor asked. Shae shook her head. He felt some relief about that.

"Let's get you back to her, maybe now they will finally take the hint," Shae said.

They could hear Sansa as they walked up, "Margaery, I really don't think it's a good idea. I don't want to give Willas the wrong impression."

"But he would just love a dance with you," the brunette pleaded. "Just as friends."

"I believe Ser Sansa is dancing with me next," interjected Sandor. Sansa smiled brightly at him as Margaery glared, then forced herself to smile brightly.

"Well, I can rectify that. I'll be your next partner, then Sansa can have a dance with Willas. Come, my lady, let us take a turn on the dance floor," Margaery said, grabbing Sandor's hand and maneuvering him back onto the dance floor. He could see Sansa start to protest, but a man who wore a dress that looked a lot like Margaery's lord costume distracted her. She gave him a tight smile and offered him her hand before leading him onto the dance floor. Despite not being much of a dancer, Sandor had a little pride in seeing he was still a better at it than that particular Tyrell. The dance ended and Sandor attempted to get back to Sansa, but was interrupted by another 'lord', asking him for a dance. She wasn't taking no for answer.

He looked over at Sansa. She was standing at the bar again, another drink in her hand. She waved at him and gave him a thumbs up. Not wanting to make a scene and therefore embarrass Sansa, he accepted the invitation to dance with a heavy heart.


	3. Why Do I Love You Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bronn's costume. Didn't have my color pencils on me :(  
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> 

Brienne lead the still pouting Jaime to the bar to see his brother. Tyrion was seated on a barstool, his face on the counter and his hand wrapped around a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. "What's got your smallclothes in a twist, little brother?" asked Jaime cheerfully. Brienne elbowed him, but he didn't take the hint.

"Shae," Tyrion said mournfully. "She hates me."

"I'm sure she doesn't, Tyrion," Brienne said softly, easing the bottle out of his hand.

"No, she does. She's leaving me after this party is over, I just know it." Tyrion sobbed into the countertop. It was then that Brienne realized that Tyrion was also wearing a handmaiden costume. On him, it was cuter than on Jaime. Not that she'd ever tell either of them that.

"What happened?" she asked gently, sitting on the stool next to his. Jaime sat on the opposite side of Tyrion.

"Did you cheat on her?" he asked.

"Jaime!"

"What? Valid question. Of _all_ the women he's been with over the years, he's only been serious and monogamous with two of them, Tysha and Shae. And Tysha left him because she didn't believe him when he said he was faithful." 

Brienne glared at him and turned back to Tyrion. "Tyr, is it possible that you're just blowing whatever happened out of proportion? When did you start believing she would leave you?"

"After half that bottle was gone," Bronn chimed in. He was working as a bartender, or bar maid. "Life was only half as bad before he chugged the whiskey. He's been nursing the rest of it for the past few hours."

"Do you know what happened?" Brienne asked him. The man shook his head. "Bring some coffee. Let's see what we can do to help him."

**********

Half a pot of strong coffee later, Tyrion was more coherent, but still refusing to talk about why he believed Shae would leave him.

"Well, I'm already dressed for covert work," Jaime said, striking a pose. "To the ballroom!" he yelled, performing an unnecessary barrel roll into the hallway and flashing a crowd because he hadn't held on to his skirt. Brienne shook her head and muttered _By the Seven, give me_ _strength_. At least he was entertained and less likely to sulk about wearing a dress.

"Jaime seems to be doing well." Tyrion had his head on the table, his arms tucked underneath. 

"He's like a kid on a sugar high, only no one gave him sugar," Brienne joked. Tyrion laughed. "Tyr, what happened? You don't have to tell me specifics, but at least give me an idea of what we're dealing with."

"We?" he asked, confused.

"Yes, we're family, and we help each other." She gave him a half smile. His features softened a bit at that.

"I said some things, very harsh, very cruel things. We were arguing over some vacation plans. I wanted to go to Quarth, but she wants to go to historic Slaver's Bay, and save the trip to Quarth for a special occasion. I asked what possible occasion could be special enough for Quarth, and then she got upset and it just escalated from there." He sighed into his coffee cup. Brienne just stared at him.

"Tyr, do you really not know what you just said?" she asked cautiously.

"Uh, no? What's the big deal about Quarth?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Three months ago, that double date the four of us had, Shae was asking us about where were were going for a honeymoon, do you remember?"

He scrunched up his face. "I think so. I was zoning out a bit. I was really tired."

"Do you remember that part when Shae said what her ideal honeymoon destination would be?"

"She said...oh...OH!"

"Yeah..." Brienne patted him on the back. "You've got some making up to do."


	4. Mending Bridges

Sansa sighed heavily. She was tired, so very tired. The armor was heavier than she had expected, and it was very draining to wear it. She had no idea how the knights of old wore this stuff constantly. On top of that, her first dance with Sandor had been interrupted and she had yet to get back to him on the dance floor. He had had a slew of partners lined up, and he was having a hard time saying no to them. Jaime had been right, Sandor was a hit at this party.

"Lonely?" Shae asked, offering her a soda. Sansa nodded.

"I imagined our date to have more interaction between the two of us. I'm glad that he's fitting in so well, but..."

"But you want to grab that hunk of man and make out with him in the closet where no one else can steal him away while you grind down on him?"

"Shae!" Sansa blushed furiously. "But yes..."

"Then why don't you?" Shae grinned.

"Why don't you tell me what got you so mad at Tyrion?" Sansa shot back, not enjoying this at all.

Shae glared at her, but then tilted her head back in defeat. "Ugh, it's so stupid. I just thought...I thought we were going somewhere, that we had a future. Then earlier...we were arguing about vacations, and he...he made it clear that we did not. I thought at first that maybe he just forget what I said about Qarth being an ideal honeymoon spot, but then...the things he said...the things I said..." Sansa hugged her friend and handed her a napkin. "I told him that if he felt like that, then I would leave in the morning. For tonight, we will present the happy faces, so that we at least do not embarrass the Lannister name. He started drinking himself into a stupor after that. He does that when he's angry. Just...drinks until he can't feel anymore."

"Sandor used to do that too. That's how we met. He had a hard time dealing with his feelings, so he drank. I found him passed out in the restroom. He was babbling about...well, an array of things, most of which made sense the more I got to know him. My point is, he drank to hide from himself. It's possible that Tyrion is doing the same thing. He's...he's more fragile than he lets on. His last serious relationship...it really broke him..."

"That Tysha whore? She was stupid. She did not appreciate him! Can you believe she tried to change him completely? Platform shoes, dyed hair, color contacts, new wardrobe...and then accused him of cheating!" Shae scoffed. "He does not need a change, except for a new girlfriend. Which he got."

"And a wonderful girlfriend you are!" Jaime exclaimed. 

"How long have you been standing there!?" Sansa demanded. 

"Um...since you wanted to make out with Sandor in a closet?" Jaime shrugged. "Somewhere around there. Everyone ignores the help.  Anyway, so you don't want to leave Tyrion? Or hate him?"

"Of course not! He is the best thing to ever happen to me. I want to marry him, but he does not feel the same. He said--"

"I didn't mean it!" Tyrion exclaimed, running up to them, with Brienne and Bronn. "I thought you weren't happy, so I pushed before you could pull away. Shae, I'm sorry, I completely forgot what you said about Qarth and honeymoons. We can go anywhere else for our vacation, but Qarth we will save." He got down on one knee. "Before our fight and foolishly thinking you were going to leave, I had every intention of doing this tonight. I have a ring for you, but it's upstairs. Shae, funny Shae, pretty Shae, so intelligent Shae, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Sansa was sure that Shae would have fainted from happiness if she hadn't been tackling her new fiancé and kissing him into oblivion. She heard Jaime whisper to Brienne, "You thinking double wedding? 'Cause I'm thinking _double wedding!"_

Brienne shushed him. "Our wedding is in two months and they _just_ got engaged. At least wait until tomorrow before you ask them, ok?"

Jaime huffed and replied, "I make no promises."

She smiled as her friends made fools of themselves. Seeing them gave her the courage to go find her "lady" and request a dance. If anyone tried to stop her, then she'd challenge them to a duel! Well, maybe just a dance off. She turned back to the dance floor and ran smack into a broad chest. She would have fallen if strong arms hadn't caught her.

"You alright there, little bird?" her "lady" asked.

"Better now. Lady Sandor, would you do me the honor of a dance?"

"The honor is mine," he said softly, as she lead him onto the dance floor. She saw Margaery glaring at them until she accidentally ran into the barmaid Bronn. Sansa wanted to laugh when she saw how wide Margaery's eyes went before going into "demure" mode.

_That ought to distract her from Sandor and me._ She looked up at the scarred man that she held in her arms and smiled warmly. _Here's to many more nights of love and happiness!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time coming up with an ending...


End file.
